Never My Money
by PrincessZeldaBelle
Summary: The Mummy, told through the eyes of the accidental hero. Chapter 7...through the desert ;)
1. 1

Never My Money

Rated PG-13

Disclaimer – All characters belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal.

The Mummy, through the eyes of the accidental hero.

Chapter 1

"Son of a bitch."  It's never English that answers you back.  The cuffs were only half-picked and half-picked just wasn't gonna be good enough.  "Yeah, yeah, all right."  I swung my feet off the bed, (if you could really call a plank of termite-infested wood a bed) and was being dragged out of the urine-infested hellhole cell before my feet hit the floor.  I managed to hide the small pin under the shackles, the sharp point digging into my wrist. But I had other things to worry about at the moment, besides a little blood dripping out from under the cuff.  Like getting the hell out of here.  And then beating the living hell out of that little weasel.

For some reason, they felt they needed two guards to escort me...okay, drag me along the screaming halls of the Cairo Prison.  The buzz?  The American scum is finally getting hanged.  You can just feel the love emanating through the walls.

But the turn we took wasn't the usual way to the courtyard.  Hrmm.  The chance that they would be letting me go was about the same as a blizzard passing through here to snow on my unmarked grave.  We stopped in front of a door, and as one of the guards let go long enough to throw the door open, I elbowed the other guard, throwing a clinched fist into his face.  My half-second of freedom didn't last too long though – the batons were out in full force, battering me into the small cell on the edge of the courtyard.  This was strange enough, but then the two Brits standing on the other side next to Hassan really made me wonder what the hell was going on as the guards brought the batons down on my back, forcing me to my knees.

"Who are you?" I asked, not really giving a damn if they were talking or not.  I dropped my hands down...I had to get the pick out from under my skin.  "And who's the broad?"

"Broad?" she repeated, huffy.  Yep.  Brit.

"I just a local sort of missionary chap, spreading the good word, and all that." Boy, was he a bad liar.  "This is my sister, Evy."  He reached back, grabbing his sister, forcing her forward, though I could tell she wanted to stay as far away from me as possible.

"How do you do?" she asked, attempting to be polite, but her attempts were lost on me.  I had other shit to worry about.

"Well, I guess she's not a total loss," I said.  Hassan's and my attention were both drawn away as half of the gallows suddenly they were erecting collapsed in the center of the courtyard.  Hassan barked out some orders before telling his esteemed guests he would be back.  This was my chance.  Hassan knew me well enough to watch my hands.  These two wouldn't have noticed had I been picking the lock right in front of their faces...well, the "missionary chap" might have.

"Um, excuse me?" I glanced back at the broad, who was all but waving to get my attention.  "We've found your...your puzzle box.  And we've come to ask you about it."  Bad lying must have run in the family.

"No."

"No?"

"No.  You came to ask me about Hamunaptra." Both of them panicked, as though anyone around here had actually heard me over the noise.  

"How...how did you know the box pertained to Hamunaptra?"

"Because that's where I was when I found it.  I was there."

"And how do we know that's not a load of pig's wallow?" her brother asked, leaning down toward me as though he could look menacing.  Something sparked in my head – I had seen him before...but where?

"You know, do I know you?" I asked.  The way he flinched and tried to back-pedal with the ever infamous "I've just got one of those faces" line – the kasbah.  Bastard was the one who picked my pocket.  That's where the box had gone.  I reached through the bars, decking him in the jaw.  The beating I received shortly there after was well worth it.

The woman, Evy he had called her, stepped over her brother, tempting fate to come closer to the cell.

"You were actually at Hamunaptra?" she asked, her eyes as big as a kid at Christmas.

"I just decked your brother," I pointed out.

"Yes, well, I know my brother," she answered, shrugging.  I had to laugh; maybe she wasn't wound as tightly as she looked to be.

"Yeah, I was there," I finally answered with a grin.

"You swear?"

Oh, she walked right into that one.  "Every damn day."

"Oh, I didn't mean that," she stated, flustered.  "I mean-"

"I know what you meant.  Seti's Place.  City of the Dead."  Well, it was now, anyway.

"Could you...could you tell me how to get there?"  Okay...now I was hearing things.  "I mean, the exact location."

"You want to know?"  I motioned for her to come closer.

"Yes."

"You really want to know?" She leaned in further at my prompting, growing more and more excited by the idea that I was about to tell her.

"Well, yes!"  I grabbed her through the bars, and to make sure I had her attention, I laid a hard kiss on her.  Bet she'd never been kissed before, let alone by an American in a prison.

"Then get me the hell outta here!"  The beatings commenced from behind, as Hassan stepped back up to the cell, motioning for them to take me to my doom.  Just then, the lock of the cuff I had been working on finally popped, and I swung back, using the added weight of the shackles to nail the guards with.  "Do it, Lady!" I hissed, as the guards latched onto me, more running into the cell to drag me out.

It's funny, really, how much the promise of death and carnage will bring even the quietest of men to his feet screaming.  And that's exactly what every man in that prison was doing as they looped the rope around my neck.

"Any last requests, pig?" the hangman asked.

"Yeah.  Loosen the knot and let me go."  He repeated the appeal to Hassan, sitting up in a guard-protected box with the woman.  As if I really needed to hear the answer, down came, "Of course we don't let him go," punctuated by a smack up the back of the head from the hangman.  Ass.

I glanced up to the cozy little booth, transfixing a glare on Hassan.  The woman is babbling on something or other, but it seems to finally catch the warden's short attention.  Of course, when the idiot tries to put the moves on the prude, he had the tenacity to be offended when he smacked his hand away.  And that's when my worthless life flashed before my eyes.


	2. 2

Never My Money

Rated PG-13

Disclaimer – All characters belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal.

The Mummy, through the eyes of the accidental hero.

Thanks to all who reviewed!  This is where we start adding in little bits….hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 2

Okay.  Not dead.  That's a good start.  Though breathing had quickly become an issue.  Were it not for the blood pounding in my ears, I'd probably have gone deaf with all of the screaming going on.  But that really wasn't important...

I happened to catch a blurred glimpse of Hassan and the woman ... were they arguing?  Hell if I could tell.  I was more concerned with not blacking out at the moment.  Whatever the hell he wants, give it to him!  Oh well.  It was a nice thought...not really a nice life, but a nice thought anyway.  You always know you're close when the self-pity kicks in.

And then I hit the ground.  When I actually find the strength to move, I roll over onto my back (and my tied hands, merely adding to the pain that my body was currently being racked with.)  She stands slowly, smugly, glancing down at me over the bridge of her nose.  A little grin starts to play onto her lips.  Shit.  Something tells me she's gonna be trouble.  And God only knows what I've gotten myself into.

~~~~~~~~~

"So the docks tomorrow?"

"Ten o'clock boat, yeah, I got it," I said to Jonathan for about the fifth time. I managed to get out of the prison without Hassan saying a word, but these two were relentless.  The Brit did all of the talking, and I do mean _all _of the talking, while she just stared at me.  I glanced at her once, and dropped her eyes faster than her brother drops whiskey, but soon after, I could feel those eyes burning into me again.

After finally being allowed to leave (and getting a decent amount money for provisions and supplies in the process) I made my way back to the run down rattrap someone at one time was capable of calling a building, but I don't think it falls under that classification anymore. And that's why I was living there.  

But I wasn't planning on staying long – just long enough to get my guns and go weasel hunting.  Shrugging on my shoulder holsters, I checked each pistol, already imagining how I was going to kill him.  I wasn't going to just shoot him, oh no. Not for everything he's done to me in the last five years.  Oh, he was going to suffer.  Maybe a bullet to the thigh, and while he attempted to slither away like the snake he was, another shot to the arm.  The possibilities were endless.

Taking the stairs two at a time down to the street, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in a small, cracked looking glass hanging in the stairwell.  Good God, I looked awful.  It's no wonder she had been staring at me.  She had been looking at the Elephant Man himself.  I ran a hand through the mass of hair falling in my eyes, and as much as I was ready to ring Gabor's scrawny little neck, there was only one thing for me to do – shower, shave, and haircut.

~~~~~~~~~

"Ah, O'Connell, you've not been around here for a while," Jim says to me, pulling a fresh towel from the cupboard as I sit in the barber's chair.

"No kidding."  He was tying me up and lathering me down before the seat had even warmed up.

"To what do I owe this honor?"

"Going out into the desert for a couple days," I said.  "Some woman and her damn full-hearty notions."

"Ahh, I shoulda guessed there was a woman involved."

"Just shut up and shave."  The silence lasted for all of a minute and a half.

"A friend of yours was in here yesterday.  Said you were dead."  Had there not been a sharp blade at my throat, I would have leapt out of my skin.

"Anyone in particular?"

"Frigidity little shit.  Wouldn't hold still worth a damn, and then wondered why his hair looked like hell after."

"Snake with legs?"  
  


"That'd be him."

"Beni," I growled under my breath.  "So he tolja I was dead, huh?"

"Yep.  Said something 'bout you killin' a guy."  I gripped the arms of the chair, my knuckles turning white.  "Well, did you?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"Just wondering if I have a criminal sitting in my chair."

"Hate to break it to you, Jim, but it wouldn't be a first time."  He didn't have much to say to that, and decided best to let it drop.  I couldn't believe it.  No, wait.  I take that back.  I could believe it, and I did believe because it was just like him.  The spineless coward never did take responsibility for his own actions while in the Legion; why should he start now?

Jim finished up, and pulled the towel away, turning me to the scrap of reflective glass on the wall.  You wouldn't have thought it was the same person staring back, hand it not been for the sleeveless, grimy shirt staring back as well.  I stood up, shoving a note into the barber's hand.  "Keep it," he said, shoving it back.  "You're gonna need new clothes, unless you wanna walk into the desert looking like a mugged Brit."  I nodded, turning to head out.  "Besides, you ain't gonna impress your lady-friend, looking like that."  I effectively slammed the door on the way out.


	3. 3

Never My Money

Rated PG-13

Disclaimer – All characters belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal.

The Mummy, through the eyes of the accidental hero.

Thanks to all who reviewed!  And away we go…

Chapter 3

The desert is a hell of a contradiction.  You're liable to burn to a nice crisp during the day, and then freeze the leftovers over night.  Not that I'm complaining.  I grew up here; you get used to it after fifteen years or so.  But it's still annoying. And this morning is no exception. Cold enough for a jacket but give it about an hour and we'll all be ready to strip down. Heh.  I don't think little Miss Carnahan would like that much – a bunch of men running around the deck of the ship in nothing but their birthday suits.  I wonder if she would jump overboard in embarrassment...  Hey, it'd get me out of this damn fool trek.

It's a thought anyway.

I finished packing the last of my gear and supplies, double checking the gunnysack.  I thought it best to bring enough ammunition to take on an entire Bedouin army, and then some.  That some, of course, being whatever the hell is under than damn city.  I want nothing to do with it, but this damned nagging feeling keeps telling me that one way or another, we're gonna find out what's out there.

I'm not a superstitious man, mind you.  I just believe in being prepared for whatever this desert will throw at you.  And believe me, it'll through all kinds of weird shit at you.

Bags in hand, I made my way through the suqs to the docks along the Nile, all the while, keeping my eyes peeled for Gabor.  He was around here somewhere – the stench was almost becoming unbearable.

The _Sudan _sat halfway down the docks, cargo still being loaded by makeshift cranes and burly men not even _I_ was be dumb enough to pick a fight with, regardless of how drunk.  Okay, well, maybe not regardless, but still, they're big enough to knock my block off, and that says a lot I think.

As I got closer to the boat, that's when I heard the unmistakable voice of the little sister.  "Personally, I think he's filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel.  I don't like him one bit."

"Anyone I know?" I asked, coming up behind them.  First thing I noticed was that she was carrying all of the bags while Jonathan walked empty handed.  She spun around, definitely not expecting me to have heard that.  I waited for her to answer, though she suddenly had trouble forming any more insults, stuttering out a hello as she put the bags down.

"Smashing day to start an adventure, eh O'Connell?" Jonathan asked, patting me on the chest, right over my billfold.  Checking to make sure he hadn't managed to somehow lift it, I replied, "Yeah, yeah, smashing."

"I would never steal from a partner, partner," he stated plainly.

"That reminds me, no hard feelings about the, uh –"  How do you say 'cleaning your clock' without sounding like a complete idiot?  Probably too late anyway.

"No, no.  Happens all the time."  Why don't I doubt that?

"Mister O'Connell," Evelyn said, finally capable of speaking.  "Can you look me in the eye and guarantee me that this thing isn't some sort of flimflam, because if it is, I am warning you –"  Ha!  Okay, now I've heard it all.  Being threatened by a librarian.  What was going to do?  Shove me in a card catalogue?

"You're warning me?"  I stepped closer, unconsciously trying to intimidate her, but she didn't back down.  "Lady, let me put it to you this way: My whole damn garrison believed in this so much, that, without orders, we marched halfway across Libya and into Egypt to find that city.  And when we got there, all we found was sand and blood."  I stared at her for a moment longer, hoping that she understood I didn't much like the idea of going back.  When she didn't move, I bent over, grabbing her luggage.  "I'll get your bags," I said, heading up the plank.

This was going to be a long trip.

I found out where our cabins were, and lucky me, I was bunking with Jonathan.  Not enough single suites, they said. My ass.  Not enough money thrown at them is more like it.  Anyhow, I made my way down the wet deck when I heard quick footfalls behind me, and something screamed disaster.  I turned carefully as not to slip to see Miss Carnahan coming up behind me.

"Mister O'Connell," she started, but was quickly cut short by her feet, as they slid out from under her, and she went ass-first right into the deck. I tried, but couldn't control the burst of laughter that came out.  I set the bags down, carefully making my way back to her.

"Not the most graceful, are you?" I said, offering my hand down to her.

"I beg your pardon?" she said, her face bright red, still sprawled out on the deck.  She refused my hand, clamoring up with the help of the railing.  I stood there, merely watching, waiting for the inevitable.  I didn't have to wait long, for as soon as she let go of the railing, she was ass over teacups, and back on the floor.

"Now, will you stop being so damned stubborn?"  I said, reaching out for her, but she batted my hand away.

"I don't need your help, thank you."

"If you say so."  I turned around, walking away with the bags.  I heard a small, exasperated "Oooo" escape from her general direction. I didn't have to glance back to see her scramble to her feet, take three angry steps, and drop back onto the deck.

Dropping her bags in her room, I realized it was a wonder the Cairo Museum was still standing.


	4. 4

Never My Money  
Rated PG-13

Disclaimer – All characters belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal.  
Marcher, Mbooker, thanks so much guys.  You're really helping me to keep going. :)  And Eve, don't worry, chapter 5 isn't going to be far behind.  And see? I got it up "tomorrow". :P

Chapter 4

The nice thing about bunking with Jonathan Carnahan is that he's never around.  I spent the better part of the day double checking our supplies and mentally mapping the way to that damn city.  Couple days up river, couple days on horseback, and I'd be back in Cairo, scot-free in two weeks.  No more smashed Brits or uptight librarians.  And thank God for that.

Just after nightfall, I decided to head up on deck and grab some food, and plow through the gunnysack, now that it was tolerable to be out in the open.  I happened to find the esteemed older brother playing five-card stud with a group of Americans.

"Ah, O'Connell, sit down," Jonathan said, waving to the empty chair.  "We could use another player."

"I only gamble with my life, never my money."  If there were never a statement truer, let whatever power that felt like it bury me in sand.

"Never?" one of the Americans said.  "What if I was to bet you five hundred dollars says we get to Hamunaptra before you?"

"You're looking for Hamunaptra?"

"Damn straight, we are."

"And who says we are?"  Let me guess.

"He does," they all said, point to Jonathan.  Jonathan looked up at me, grinning like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"All right, you're on."  Well, so much for that rule of life to live by.

"What makes you so confident?" came a rather snotty British voice to the side of the table.  This guy reeked of a museum more than Evelyn, and that's saying a lot.  But if he was anything like the rest of them, he'd never been there.  So what was his deal?

"Well, what makes you?" I asked.

The tall blonde spoke up this time, stating, "We've got us a man who's actually been there."  I could already feel my stomach tighten.  I didn't have much time to think about though, as the Brit opened his mouth again.

"Well, what a coincidence," Jonathan started, "O'Connell here –"  I promptly smacked him upside the back of the head with the heavy gunnysack as I swung it up onto my shoulder.  "Whose deal is it?  Is it my deal?" he spit out, rubbing the back of his head for a moment.

"Gentlemen, we got us a wager.  Good evening.  Jonathan," I added, with a hard squeeze to his shoulder, telling him to keep his big fat trap shut.

I turned a corner of the ship, the cloud of smoke following me finally dissipated, leaving me with nothing more than the fresh night air.  Smoking was just one of those things I never really understood.  I watched too many guys in my garrison go damn near crazy when they couldn't get a smoke for a week.  They were liable to shoot your head off for saying the wrong thing.

I needed to plow through the gunnysack weighing down my shoulders, prep the guns and ammo, and none other than little miss librarian occupied a table on this side of the deck.  Rather than announce myself and be told to 'bugger off', I threw the bag down on the table.

She damn near jumped out of her skin.

"Sorry," I said, trying not to laugh this time.  "Didn't mean to scare you."  Though I enjoyed it immensely.

"The only thing that scares me, Mister O'Connell, are you manners," she shot back, looking up at me over the top of her glasses, book still in hand.  I figured she wasn't talking about her escapades on the deck this morning, when I had actually offered to help her, so there was only one other option to go with.

"Still angry about that kiss, huh?"

"Well, if you call *that* a kiss."  That one was hitting below the belt.  Without a word escaping my clinched jaw, I threw open the gunnysack, unrolling it across the table.  If her eyes got any wider, they would have popped out.  No doubt she was wondering why anyone would carry this much firepower on a dig.  No doubt she was going to ask too.  "Did I miss something?  Are we going into battle?"  Called it.

"Lady," I said, pulling up a chair and starting in, "there something out there.  Something underneath that sand."  I set to my mindless task, pulling out guns, loading and oiling, not having to give a thought to what I was doing.

"Yes, well, I'm hoping to find a certain artifact."  Big shock.  "A book actually."  Good God, you would think she had had enough of books already.  "My brother thinks there's treasure.  What do you think is out there?"

"In a word, evil."  I don't think that was the answer she was expecting, as it wiped the grin right off her painted lips.  "The Bedouin and the Tuaregs believe that Hamunaptra is cursed.  They call it the 'Doorway to Hell.'"

"_Ahmar is Ossirion_. 'Passageway to the Underworld,' actually."  She grinned at me, that disgusting 'I-Know-More-Than-You-Do' grin.  "Well, I don't believe in fairytales and hokum, Mister O'Connell.  But I do believe that one of the most famous books in history is buried out there: The Book of Amun-Ra.  It contains within it all of the secret incantations of the Old Kingdom.  It's what first interested me in Egypt when I was a little girl.  It's why I came here, sort of a life's pursuit."

"And the fact that they say it's made out of pure gold makes no never mind to you."  Her eyes lit up that I had a clue what the hell she was talking about.

"You know you're history," she said, in a tone that almost sounded like it could have been a compliment.

"I know my treasure."  It was my turn for the know-it-all grin, snapping the freshly oiled shotgun closed.  She set her hands in her lap for a moment, looking rather uncomfortable until she finally said -

"By the way, why did you kiss me?"  I shrugged, casually shoving bullets into the chamber of a revolver.

"I don't know.  I was about to be hanged.  It seemed like a good idea at the time."  Open mouth, insert one size eleven foot.  She obviously didn't appreciate my humor either, as she shot up out of her seat, huffing away in a little storm.  "What?" I said, spinning around in the chair as I snapped the chamber closed.  "What'd I say?"

Now, the last thing any man wants to hear when a woman, no matter how big a pain in the ass, has just stormed off is someone laughing.  Keeping the revolver in hand, I carefully poked my way around to some mysteriously moving cargo.  I reached behind and quickly produced a rat.

"O'Connell!  My good friend!  You're alive.  I was so very, very worried."  Yeah, I bet he was.

"Well, if it ain't my little buddy Beni."  I had just decided there was a God and he had a sense of vengeance.  "I think I'll kill you now," I added, cocking the safety back, aiming the gun at his chest.

"Think of my children," he squealed.

"You don't have any children."

"Someday I might."

"Shut up."  As if dealing with this rotten weasel for two years in the middle of the desert hadn't been enough, now I had to listen to him whine about love lost and all that crap.  A change of subject would be the only thing to keep me from throwing up.  "So you're the one leading the Americans.  I might have known.  So what's the scam, Beni?  You take them out to the middle of the desert, and leave them to rot?"  And I wouldn't put it past him either.

"Unfortunately, no.  These Americans are smart." Damn good thing I don't take offense to American-bashing, or he'd have a shiny new bullet in his leg.  "They pay me only half now, half when we get back to Cairo.  So this time, I must go all the way."

"Them's the breaks, huh?"

"You never believed in Hamunaptra, O'Connell.  Why are you going back?"

"See that girl?" I glanced to Evelyn who had stopped to pet the penned camels.  "She saved my neck."  Literally.  

And for the first time, as she glanced back at us, that I caught something in her look.  It wasn't quite the contempt that it had been there off and on...it was something else...Something I didn't have much time to ponder because of the snickering in my ear.

"You always did have more balls than brains, O'Connell," Beni pointed.  I grinned at him, with a little chuckle.

"Yeah?" I said, grabbing him by the collar.  "Good-bye, Beni," and promptly tossed his ass overboard.  Let's see the Americans get to Hamunaptra now.  I turned back to the gunnysack, unloading my shoulder holsters when I head a creaking behind me.  I spun around, my hand on the hilt of the revolver still within the holster, but saw nothing more than wet footprints.  Wet footprints?  I leaned over the side of the boat; Beni was still flailing in the Nile.  I glanced back down at the trail, deciding this was not a good sign.  I quickly reloaded my holsters, gathered up the contents of the gunnysack, and followed the footprints.


	5. 5

Never My Money  
Rated PG-13

Disclaimer – All characters belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal.

Sorry about the delay guys…lots of family stuff going on right now that's not so fun…I'll try to keep getting this up as often as I can.

Chapter 5  
Silence.  It's really a strange occurrence, especially when it happens on a boat full of people.  And I think that's what bothered me more.  There was nothing.  No sound of steps, no music, no drunken bawling.  Just silence.

Except for that nearly, but not quite hushed scream down the hall.  Without thinking, the adrenaline kicked in, and I pulled out two revolvers, running down the narrow hall.

"Evelyn!"  I kicked in the door to her cabin, pointing both guns at an ugly guy in all black.  He grabbed Evelyn, pulling her in as a human shield, holding a sharp hook to her throat.  But that was only half my problem.  The other half threw the window open, and I immediately turned, firing repeatedly, nailing him, as well as the oil lamp on the wall, which fell down onto the furniture in a ball of flames.  Evelyn reached down for a candle and threw the hot wax over her shoulder.  Well, she just earned a few points in my book.  Hook released his grip, and Evelyn flew toward me, hiding behind me as I continued firing until we were safely out the door of the now burning cabin.

We got half way down the hall before Evelyn skid to a stop.  "The map! The map! I forgot the map!"  I grabbed her arm as she ran past me, spinning her back around to head away from the inferno.  

"Relax, I'm the map.  It's all up here," I said, pointing to my head, as I continued guiding, well, more like dragging, her down the hall.

"Oh, well that's comforting," she shot back.  We rounded a corner, heading out the door into the bitterly cold air.  I heaved up the gunnysack, grabbing some bullets out of the side pocket, handing it off to Evelyn.

"Hold this," I said, popping the chamber, shoving the bullets in unceremoniously.  Bullets started ripping at the side panels beside us, but I barely flinched, (having been around this crap far too long).  The shots kept getting closer, until Evelyn finally grabbed me, pulling me aside as the wall demonstrated what my head could have just done: blowing out into little bits and pieces.  If this woman saves my life one more time, I'm gonna be indebted for eternity.

Glancing at her with a nod, we rounded the corner, and I began firing up into the second deck, while Evelyn ducked behind me as we ran across the deck.  It was about then that I noticed the entire ship was a floating blaze on the water, men running horses off the side of the barge, people jumping overboard left and right.  Not a bad idea.

We made it to the railing overlooking the Nile below.  I shoved the guns into the holsters, turning to Evelyn who dropped the gunnysack with a thump.  "Can you swim?" I called to her over the gunfire.

"Well, of course I can swim if the occasion calls for it!"

"Trust me," I said, picking her up.  "It calls for it," and dumped her over the side of the boat.  I leaned over, sweeping the gunnysack up off the deck, and turned to jump myself when another of the guys in black leapt over the side of the railing, knocking me back and the bag from my hands.  These guys were everywhere!  And beating the hell out of me.  He decked me repeatedly, pushing me back away from the side of the boat, away from any kind of reload until I backed into a rather unstable support beam.  It caught us both off guard, but I recovered quicker, laying into the guy until he flew through a side door, engulfed in a ball of fire.  Wasting no time, I made my way back to the railing, throwing the gunnysack over my shoulder.  I was ready to be the next man overboard when none other than the stinky warden himself came up to me in a panic.

"O'Connell!  What do we do?"

"Wait here," I told him, as deadpan as I could manage.  "I'll go get help."  Well, one could hope he listened, right?  I leapt off the side of the boat into the frigid water and swam for shore.

The Carnahans had already pulled each other up on shore (thankfully the right shore) as I was trudging out of the water.  "We've lost everything!" Evelyn whined.  "All of our tools, all my clothes..."  I didn't see the problem with traveling lighter, but come daybreak, she was going to get some interesting looks in that paper-thin nightgown.  I threw the gunnysack down into the sand, pulling the revolvers out of their holsters to drain them.

"O'Connell!  Hey!  O'Connell!"  I turned slowly to the sound of the raspy shrill, finding Beni alive (dammit) on the other side of the river.  "Looks to me like I've got all the horses!"

"Hey Beni!" I shouted back.  "Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!"  We were like two ten-year-olds – "I know you are, but what am I?"  I turned away, back to our own problem, while the Hungarian looked around, figuring out that I was right and started cussing up a storm.

"Well, O'Connell?" Jonathan said, wringing out his coat.  "Now what do we do?"  I realized the three of them were looking to me for the next move, so I answered.

"We walk," I answered, grabbing the bag and heading through the brush.

"I beg your pardon?" Evelyn's higher voice stood out among the three of them bitching.  She tried to follow me through the tall reeds, her nightgown getting caught up in them.  "We walk?"

"Do you see any other alternative?  If so, speak up.  I'd love to see where you call pull four horses from."  Her mouth dropped open for a moment as if to protest, but she quickly clamped it shut.  Without a word, I started heading down a slope away from the Nile, onto a worn path.

"No, I'm going any further!"  The warden collapsed into a pile on the ground, refusing to budge.

"Hassan, get off your ass, and let's go!"

"Mister O'Connell," Evelyn pleaded.  "It's late, we're cold, and wet.  And we need to sleep."

"She's right, ol' boy," Jonathan added.  "Or you're going to have to carry us all the rest of the way to Hamunaptra."  Jonathan and Evelyn collapsed into each other, leaving me the last man standing.

"Fine," I said, admitting defeat as I threw the gunnysack down.  This trip was quickly getting longer and going to hell in a hand basket.


	6. 6

A/N - SHE LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Yes, yes, I know.  It's been too damn long since I updated, but I have a very good excuse.  If you really want to know, email me and I'll tell you (some of you already know. :))  Anyway, I start my new job this week (YAY!! No more Worker's Comp!!!)  but I'll try to keep this and Bolero going (yes, I am still working on that one too.)

And without further babbling…

Chapter 6

"Jonathan, you're coming with me."

"For what now?" he demanded, sitting up straight.

"We need firewood, or we're going to freeze to death.  Think you can manage that?" Jonathan huffed for a moment, scrambling to his feet.

"I'm coming too," Evelyn stated, clambering to her feet.

"Like hell you are," I stated.  She balled her little fists, clinching her teeth.

"I'm staying," Hassan stated, but no one gave a damn what he had to say.

"Last thing I need is to have to go trudging through the desert in the middle of the night, wondering where the hell you got off to."

"Why, Mister O'Connell, I didn't know you cared."  Her voiced dripped with sarcasm enough to rival my own.

For once, I had nothing to say.

I turned, grabbing Jonathan by the sleeve, dragging him through the tall reeds.  I could hear Evelyn thrashing through behind us, trying her damnedest to keep up.

"I say, ol' boy," Jonathan said, my hand still tightly clinched around his arm, "why don't you, uh, let Evy have a stab at it, and I'll, uh, head back and guard camp?"

"Hassan's there."

"Yes, but can we really trust him with our things?"

"What things?" I said, coming to a halt, releasing his arm.  "They're all at the bottom of the Nile!"

"Point taken," he said, tugging at the bottom of his coat.  Evelyn then came crashing through the reeds, knocking into Jonathan.

"Steady there, ol' mum," Jonathan said, grabbing his baby sister before she went face-first into the mud.  I just shook my head, turning away from them. They were going to be the death of me.

****

"Mister O'Connell, please, I think we've very well stripped the area of whatever bits of driftwood we can possibly find."  My eyes fell on Evelyn, standing barefoot in the mud, her damp nightgown still clinging to her body, hair frazzled, arms wrapped around a small bundle of driftwood.  My stomach tightened for a second, and I had to blink hard to clear my senses.  What the hell was that?

"Fine," I said, pulling together my small bundle.  "Where's Jonathan?"

"He had gone off that way," she said, motioning with her tired head.  I stood up straight, my back protesting for a moment, but I ignored it as usual, heading through the reeds in the direction Evelyn motioned.  She trudged through behind, and I found myself stopping to hold the reeds aside for her.  She smiled lightly at me, her front teeth peeking out between her lips.  Again, my stomach tightening and I couldn't help but wonder what the hell was wrong with me?  She's not exactly the type of girl I'm used to.  Sure as hell I'm not the type of guy she's looking for, still...What the hell is wrong with me??

An eerie, grating sound caught my attention, and instinctively, my hand when to the revolver at my side.  "What was that?" my arm shot out, stopped Evelyn as she continued stumbling forward.  I strained to hear it again, glancing down at Evelyn who was half asleep where she stood.

"Oh, it's only Jonathan," she said through a yawn.  "He grinds his teeth in his sleep."

"He what?" I said, rolling my eyes as I followed the sound of the grinding.  Keeping the pistol in hand, I crashed through the reeds to see Carnahan leaning against a tree, a piece of driftwood dangling from each hand, sound asleep with his mouth gaping open.  Sure enough, he turned his head, his teeth grinding together before muttering something in his sleep. Slamming the pistol into the holster, I walked causally up to the Brit, kicking his legs out from underneath him.  He slid to the ground with a thud, his eyes jarring open.

"I say, now what was that for?" Jonathan said, glancing up at me with startled eyes.

"Have a nice nap?"

"That was completely uncalled for."

"Not around here it ain't."

"You know, O'Connell, you're not in the Legion anymore.  You can be a little nicer when you wake people up."

"Yeah, but what's the fun of that."  It took a minute to register exactly what he had said to me.  "Wait a minute.  How the hell did you know I was in the Legion?"

"You have a big mouth when you're drunk."  He grinned at me, gathering up the wood before bouncing toward Evelyn.  My mind flashed back to the Kasbah – the drinks, the box-thing, Jonathan picking my pocket...  The whole damned ordeal flooded back to me as though I had just had my ass thrown in jail for it all over again.

"Hey," I said, stopping the Brit in his tracks.  "You're not going to tell her about all of that, are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, O'Connell ol' boy."  He flashed that grin again, before reaching Evelyn, guiding her back to camp.  I followed a few steps behind, lost in my own upside-down thoughts.


	7. 7

To say I'm sorry about the delay would be an understatement.  :)  When writer's block hits, it hits with a vengeance.  (Not to mention, I really didn't want this to seem like Eve's fab fic, The Distance, so that's where a lot of my troubles started.)

I'm planning a wedding now, and working full time, so I honestly can't say when chapter 8 will come, but hopefully not in another nine months. :)

~PZB

Chapter 7

My mind was spinning.  I couldn't get her out of my head.  What the hell was my malfunction?  I couldn't close my eyes – I would just picture her glancing down at me with that little "I-told-you-so" smile, or the way she looked at me on the dock, as though I could actually be a human being in her perfect little world.  Dammit! This is so annoying.  A woman had never been more than someone to entertain a night with...maybe I had just never found one that intrigued me in such a way.  But this was unnerving.  This was *very* unnerving.  How the hell was I supposed to be able to do anything with thoughts like these running through my head?

So I gave up on sleep.  Sleep is just a waste of time anyway.

The sun finally starting to peak over the sand dunes to the east, casting an eerie orange glow on the Nile.  Jonathan was grinding, Hassan was mumbling some Arab nonsense or other, and Evelyn... Evelyn's skin took on this strange, radiant glow, like she was born of the morning desert sun...

Dammit!!

I slammed my head into the trunk of the palm tree I was leaning against, rattling the fronds above.  One came loose, careening down on top of Evelyn.  She awoke with a scream, sending my hands to my guns, even though I knew what was wrong.  Damn reflexes.  Jonathan awoke with a start, swearing he hadn't touched her, while I leapt to my feet, freeing the thrashing librarian from the palm frond.  "Hey.  Hey!"  I finally had to grab her wrists to keep her from decking me.  "Evelyn, are you all right?"  Her eyes finally opened...she had slept through that?...and she looked up at me, down to my hands holding hers, then back up at me.  I let go immediately, much to her surprise, as she lost her balance and fell back into the sand with a thud.  "Are you all right?" I asked again, as she sat up slowly, rubbing her head.

"I...I think so," she muttered, glancing to Jonathan as he struggled to his feet.

"What in God's name is going on here?" Jonathan stammered. "O'Connell, if you touched one hair on my sister's head, so help me..."

"Oh, do shut up, Jonathan," Evelyn hissed.  "Mister O'Connell did no such thing.  If I was attacked by anything, it was the palm tree."

"Bloody trees," Jonathan said, glancing at the frond lying in the sand.  I glared at Jonathan for a moment as he staggered away from us, through the reeds, mumbling something about nature calling.

To no ones surprise, Hassan was still snoring.  I rolled my eyes as I stood up straight, walked over to the warden and gave him a good, square kick in the ribs.  "Get up, Hassan," I ordered.  "We move out in twenty minutes."

"Umm, Mister O'Connell, if I may..." Evelyn started scrambling to her feet.  "I...well, you see, I was thinking last night, and umm, well I can't very well go traipsing about the desert in just a chemise..."  As much as Hassan might like to see that...

"Yeah, I know.  There should be a Kasbah about twenty, thirty kilometers from here.  We'll pick up supplies and camels while we're there."

"No there isn't," Hassan spat, grumbling as he rubbed his ribs.  I closed my eyes for a moment, rubbing my temples to keep from shooting the bastard.

"Yeah, there is."

"And what makes you the expert?"

"How about the fact that I spent three years parading around here and two months of that was in the Kasbah that's twenty kilometers from here?"  I turned away from the putz before he could grate on my even further.

We hadn't been on the road more than ten minutes before Jonathan started whining.

"God, I'm hungry!"

"Quite," Evelyn agreed.  "But what can we do but trek onward?"  I sighed, the first of many for the day.  I had no sleep, and this was never a good thing when dealing with idiots, wardens, and women in nothing but a nightgown.  I kept my eyes on the horizon, looking for any sign of the Kasbah, doing everything in my power to keep my eyes from wandering over.

"But Evy, how am I supposed to 'trek onward' if I haven't the strength to put one foot in front of the other?"

"Think of it this way," I said, breaking my silence.  "Either stop thinking about food, or you will be food."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Jonathan shot defensively.  I pointed to the circling buzzards about a hundred yards away, then glanced at Hassan.  "Ah, I see.  Good point, ol' boy."  I wish he would stop calling me that.  "So tell me more about this gold, Evy darling."  Oh, boy.  Here we go again.  I tuned her out, fed up with the talk of this supposed gold.  It sounded all too familiar.  Besides that, I knew if I listened to her, I'd look at her, and given the fact that it was already hot, she would more than likely be sweating...  Dammit!!!  I buried my face in my hands for a long moment, trying to forcibly rub away the images in my head.

"Are you all right, Mister O'Connell?" the librarian asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah.  Fine.  Didn't sleep.  It's catching up is all."  Whether or not she bought it I'll never know, but she nodded with a small comforting smile, before turning back to her brother, continuing her tales of the City of the Dead.  I resigned myself to listen...not so much to what she was saying.  Just to her voice.


End file.
